


Less the Product

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: AU, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad being pregnant only makes him more bitter and harder to talk to than ever before</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less the Product

Brad being pregnant only makes him more bitter and harder to talk to than ever before. He won’t tell Chester anything – his mom calls twice a week and he takes the phone into the guest room and spills his heart out whilst his lover sits downstairs where he left him, staring at the book of baby names he picked up from the thrift store.

“What about Gideon?” He asks when Brad enters the room, eyes red from crying.

He shuffles over to a chair and sits down awkwardly, “Why?”

“It means ‘mighty warrior’” Chester says, “In Hebrew.”

“Oh,” Brad smirks, “So just because it’s Hebrew that means I’ll like it?”

Chester sighs, goes to protest but is cut off.

“Well why don’t we just call the thing Jesus and be done with it?”

And then he’s gone, leaving Chester behind again.

***

Brad can’t sleep and when he does his dreams are haunted by everything that could go wrong. They’d both done their research – before today the chances of dying during childbirth was as high as one in eight. A few years ago it was one in sixteen. Now it’s one in thirty five.

But Brad always says, “Somebody has to be that one.”

And Chester always says, “It won’t be you.”

But neither of them know that for sure.

Chester sits up and shakes his shoulder gently to wake him, pushes his sweat-damp hair from his eyes. “Ssh, wake up. It’s just a bad dream.”

Brad’s eyes open wide and he jerks awake, relaxes at the sighs at Chester’s worried face hovering above him, “Hey,” he croaks.

“Hey,” Chester smiles, “What were you dreaming about?”

“Blood,” Brad says, and it’s the first honest answer he’s been given since this whole thing started. “And flipper babies.”

“Flipper babies…”

Brad sits up and looks at him, one hand on his belly, the other holding him up, “Do you know how many children born from male parents are deformed?”

“No.”

“Too many.”

“And you won’t love him if it is.”

“No,” Brad says, “Other people won’t love it.”

“Him,” Chester says, “It is a boy.”

They’d wanted this. Both of them. They’d tried for months but the doctors told them that Chester couldn’t carry children. It was horrible to hear, and Chester shut down for days. So Brad said, “I’ll do it.”

And every day he waddles around, bloated and miserable. Doesn’t say anything, but Chester know he blames him. This was his thing. This was what he wanted. But it was Brad who was doing it. Brad who was suffering.

He never says anything, but Chester knows it’s all his fault.

“It’s not anything yet,” Brad murmurs tiredly, “It’s a pain in the ass.”

***

After that, it’s Brad standing in front of the mirror going on and on about his gigantic J-Lo butt.

“You don’t have a J-Lo butt.”

“Yes I do! You could rest a fucking beer on it!”

“You have an awesome butt,” Chester says, slapping it.

Brad sighs wearily and holds his stomach protectively. Six months pregnant and neither of them are used to the protruding belly which pulls his shirts tight. Chester rests his hands over Brad’s and smiles softly, “I think you look beautiful.”

It’s not a lie, but really he’s quite jealous. But he won’t say that.

Quietly, Brad whispers, “I don’t think I can do this, Ches’. This is your thing, not mine.”

“Not long now, though,” Chester says, trying to comfort him.

“But. I mean. Doing it all. I just. I don’t think I can. Raising a kid…”

He doesn’t mean it, but he says, “There’s always adoption. Once he’s born.”

“No. I mean. Abortion.”

“It’s too late for that now, Brad.”

“Not everywhere,” he says, “there’s some places where it’s never to late.”

“No fucking way.” Chester snaps, stepping back, “If you go to one of those back-alley clinics you could fucking die. I won’t let you!”

“What then? I can’t do this!”

Chester has no idea. He had no idea Brad was feeling this way. He’d thought things were okay and that Brad was as excited about the baby as he was. He bites his lip. “If you just persevere,” he says, “I’ll get my own place. Once the baby is born I’ll move out.”

Brad sighs, “That isn’t what I want.”

“You can’t go get an abortion now. You can’t.”

He’s desperate now. One too many day time TV shows have shown him the aftermath of those kind of abortions. Un-sterilised equipment; bent coat hangers and blood; teenagers losing their lives to keep it a secret.

“This is so fucking hard.”

“Isn’t it worth it?” Chester asks.

The answer should be yes. And then they should hug, kiss, laugh at how silly it all is.

But Brad just walks away instead.

And Chester doesn’t know what to do.

***

Finds him on the roof. Throwing stuffed toys at the ground.

Chester edges forward slowly. It’s dark now, and this is fucked up. He steps closer, says, “Hey Brad.”

“Hey.”

“Um.” Nearly at the edge now. “What you up to?”

“Boycotting Disney.” Brad says, and a stuffed Eeyore sails toward the ground.

“Oh.” Chester says. “Why?”

“Our little boy isn’t getting anything Disney. He isn’t going to Disney land. I’m not going to always shelter him from how shit the world is.” Brad launches a Tigger to the ground.

“Brad. Brad those were presents. Couldn’t we just give them back? Or give them to, I dunno, Oxfam or something.”

“Eeyore is a manic depressive, really. But kids are taught to laugh at him. You know? Poor old Eeyore? Ha-fucking-ha he’s in a horrible situation again?” His voice is high pitched and manic, like this has been a long time coming.

He throws a stuffed owl to the ground. “In Disneyland everything negative is removed. Why not just drug us all? It’s cheaper.”

Chester shivers. This high up there’s nothing but wind. “Okay. We’ll not send him to Disneyland. Could you come here now, please?”

“You went to Disneyland, right? Because…you do a great job of shutting all the negative shit out.”

“I didn’t shut anything out, Brad, you just never fucking told me you were having doubts.”

Brad turns and faces him. In one hand is the bag of stuffed toys, in the other is a sad looking Piglet. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there and stares.

Chester sighs and steps closer, “I didn’t know. And I didn’t ask because it never crossed my mind. You always seemed so excited and…I wanted this so much I guess I thought you did too…”

Neither of them speak and eventually Brad holds out Piglet by one leg for Chester to take and steps away from the edge. He waddles forward awkwardly and drops the bag. “Don’t want to call him Gideon.” He says.

Chester sighs in relief and pulls Brad into his arms, their baby safe between them. He strokes his boyfriend’s hair soothingly and whispers, “Okay.” He says, “Okay. We won’t.”


End file.
